


hemoglobin & chemical highs

by myvoidedeyes



Series: (we are) lost boys [2]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Blood, Blood and Violence, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Minor Violence, Oneshot, Season 02, Season 2, Swearing, Upir, Violence (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myvoidedeyes/pseuds/myvoidedeyes
Summary: sweet, and hot, and sickly, and drenching his mouth; blood was his addiction.





	hemoglobin & chemical highs

Blood smelled like sin, and tasted twice as sweet. Its hot, heady slide down his greedy gullet was a full sensory experience of repulsive succulence; inebriating him with more ease than any liquor his vast ocean of wealth could ever procure him. The way it turned the world a hundred thousand, new, colours, made his stomach churn, and his traitorous mind wonder how shitty powders had ever managed to take the edge off. The way it looked, streaked in vibrant slashes of rust red across Peter’s pallid face, however, stirred an entirely different hunger from a cold, dormant place within him. 

Hot with adrenaline and exertion, chest heaving from the lives he’d extinguished, sweet rivulets of his own sluggishly trekking his skin, he met Peter’s eyes, feverishly bright in the weak light, and that molten lust spiked, a euphoric gutting from within.

He would not recall, later, making the decision to cross that line between them. It was as if he simply blinked, and, suddenly, he was pressed against a body that was unnaturally warm amongst winter’s wrath, and was kissing, all too hard, another’s chapped, bitten, blood-caked lips. He had shoulders, broad and grounding, clutched in his hands, a desperate lifeline in the midst of his madness. There were three beats of stillness, and then the statue in his arms came to life with a strangled whine, abruptly an equally fervored force, pushing up into him, as if to entwine their very molecules. Hands wrapped around his forearms, whose grip slowly, wracked with unsureness, became just as tight and unbelieving as his own. 

Their fighting of lips and tongues, each chasing the other’s every exhalation, tasted like metal, and cold, and finite forevers. Like a future woven in spider’s webs and morning dew, that was bittersweet in his shared mouth. Yet it had him warmer than he’d been in years, and so impossibly alive. It didn’t matter that the kiss was too rough, too harsh, too filled with a thicket of unruly facial hair; it was immaculate, dredging up serotonin and dopamine from their dusted corner of his mind, so to amalgamate with the adrenaline, and create a combined chemical that had his fucked up brain ensconced in an unparalleled high.

And when they finally divorced their mouths, it was with a drawn-out sigh and an unbroken gaze, shared between glassy, blackened eyes. Words were elusive, but the way their cold-bitten hands slid together, fitting like misshapen, stiffened puzzle pieces, was more communicative than any utterance they shared could ever be.


End file.
